﻿Genci Mosho (Gëzim)﻿﻿﻿Recollections

Genci Mosho, front and center,
in Tomka and His Friends.

My artistic collaboration with Teta Xhano started when I was six years old and ended when I was twelve. Over six years, and in five films I had some of the most coveted roles for a child actor, including four films with Xhanfise Keko: The Newest City in the World (1974), Beni Walks on His Own (1975), Tomka and His Friends (1977), and Velo the Little Partisan (1978).

I've often wondered why I was chosen ... was it simply that I was in the right place at the right time? Was I, specifically, the type of kid she was looking to cast? Was it my face? Or was it my talent? It may very well be a combination of all of these factors. Today, in hindsight, I think it was primarily fate that brought me into this privileged position in relation to other children of my generation. I say good fortune because if it were not for that day that she came into the schoolyard and into my classroom, I would have never met Teta Xhano. A gambler might say that the odds were in my favor, since we lived in the same neighborhood, it made sense that she came into a local school when looking to cast children for her films; and my good fortune persisted because we continued to live in the same neighborhood until her death in 2007. I was the lucky kid who got to see Teta Xhano often long into adulthood, long after the lives of all of Keko’s kids had taken many twists and turns.

Now that she is no longer with us, with each passing day I am more and more convinced that Teta Xhano made such an impact on our lives because she was a rare soul. She was and remained a model of human kindness and a true artist. In her, the body and soul of the artist complemented each other, supported each other, encouraged each other, and protected each other. Personally I find it difficult to discern where Teta Xhano the woman begins and where Xhanfise Keko the talented artist ends. Without this rare combination she could not have made the films that she did, and she could not have had such success with these films that to this day are loved by Albanians at home and throughout the diaspora. Perhaps this is what makes her unique compared to other Albanian filmmakers.

Thinking now, after all these years back to our days on set—shooting in the streets of Tirana and other cities and towns in Albania—I remember that Teta Xhano wanted us to express ourselves as fully as we could. She gave us the freedom to bring the world of children to life in front of the camera, insisting on spontaneity in our interpretation. We often improvised beyond the approved script. And, in those days, every script produced in Albania had to undergo approval by the state sanctioned censors before shooting could begin. Perhaps this is what sets Xhanfise Keko’s films apart from those of other Albanian directors of the same period.

In the film The Newst City in the World, there is a scene where the characters break the water tap. Teta Xhano explained her vision for this scene to us by acting it out herself, demonstrating how we should act and react as needed to communicate with each other. But more importantly, what makes this scene one of the most unforgettable in the film is that when the cameras started to roll and the moment came for us to break the tap, the water squirted all over us. We did not expect this to happen, so we responded very naturally and excitedly, but Teta Xhano knew what was in store for us and was able to keep us on task and on scene withouth getting too distracted. When we were done filming we were drenched from head to toe. The crew and the other actors who were not in the scene barely waited to hear the word "Cut!" and they instantly broke into fits of laughter. Despite all the excitement that was created during the shooting of this scene, Teta Xhano, even while laughing, did not neglect to remind the cast and crew to clean up the mess.

When we were shooting the rebellion scene in Tomka and His Friends—the moment when the children go back to the field after the German occupation of the field, and contiue to play and dance at the gates, even though everyone (we young actors, the soldiers, the extras, Gof the German dog) were in place for the shoot, she did not give the signal for the cameras to roll. This was a rare moment when she was unable to decide how to start a scene and she continued for a while to talk quietly to the cineamtographer and cameraman to figure out the scene while the actors kept their marks. Then, unexpectedly, she called out to all on set, “We should hear from the kids what they think.” She hollered up to us as we were all clinging like monkeys to the tree branches we had climbed for the scene. “Come down kids. I want to hear what you think, I have a feeling you might rescue me today.”

​We climbed down in no time and surrounded her. She didn’t wait for us to catch our breath. “What would you boys do if you were in the place of Tomka and his friends and you were angry that the Germans had taken over your field? Give it some thought, I want to hear from each and everyone of you.”

We felt important with this attention and request from Teta Xhano and immediately started bouncing around our ideas of how we would stage the scene. I exclaimed, “We should sing a song while performing a dance in front of the Germans to show them our disapproval!” I timidly added, “I know a dance.”

“To sing and perform a dance...” repeated Teta Xhano. Judging from her voice, she liked the idea and without lingering continued, “Let’s try Genci’s suggestion.” In a matter of seconds, my friends gathered around me to learn the dance moves. Two years earlier I had performed a folk dance at the May Concert in Tirana with the Pioneer Ensemble that to my good fortune I still remembered.

“Tomka should lead it,” directed Teta Xhano. Moments later she asked, “Who will create the song lyrics, you boys?”

We didn’t shoot the scene that day. It wasn’t so much because of the lyrics, which did take a while for us to write-- a line here and a line there from all the kids. But, Enea was having trouble learning the dance moves. Still, Teta Xhano was pleased with our creative process and decided we would shoot the scene the next day. I think that nearly everyone who has seen the film would agree that the dance scene is one of the best, if not the best, scenes in the movie. It emerged from the children’s psychology and imagination, which was what Teta Xhano wanted to capture by consulting with us. This is one of countless moments, each more impressive than the next, that demonstrate the spirit of collaboration that Teta Xhano instilled in all of her actors, young and old.

Her ability to recognize the child in the role, and the role of the child in realizing their creative potential as an actor is another unique characteristic of her directorial style that deserves to be noted. Now that I am a teacher myself, I can better appreciate her extraordinary tact and her methods for working with child actors. She did not simply impose her vision on us, even when she had a fixed idea in mind, and even when we had to interpret scenes that were difficult for a child to fully comprehend. We were not professional actors before working with Teta Xhano, and she and her production crews worked together to make sure that what always came through in her films was the essence of the children’s experiences. In this way she was also able to help us to reflect on our own actions, impulses and thoughts. Yes, she was a filmmaker, but in many ways she was also a great psychologist who really empathized with children and could convey this through her films.

While shooting Tomka, we spent many months in Berat and I was feeling homesick for my mom, my dad, and my sister. I was only 9 years old and unlike Enea and Artan who were a bit older than I and excited about being on their own, I was starting to get really down and it was starting to affect my performance. One day, in one of my more somber moments after shooting, Teta Xhano and the camera man came came to me, she took my hands in hers as my mother had done many times with me, and asked if I was alright. I did my best to put on a happy face, but she knew better. She got up and went to the production manager and said, “I think we should give Genci a one day pass to go to Tirana to see his family and friends.” The production manager replied that this would put the entire shoot behind schedule, but Teta Xhano did not give up.

“You must understand, we are working with children. They are more fatigued by their longing for their parents than by long hours of work. If you give Genci this one day, he will come back and work better than before. While he is gone, we will shoot the scenes that he is not in.” Before I could even get excited about the prospect of getting a chance to see my family after such a long separation, I was on the bus headed back to the Kinostudio in Tirana. The next day, I would be back in Berat, happy as ever and ready to play my part.

Now that I am in my 40s, married, with two children of my own, and a lifetime of experiences, I still consider my years acting in films in the 1970s to be some of the most unique and cherished moments of my life. I still enjoy watching any of the films that Teta Xhano directed, even those where I did not play a part. Her stories of children are timeless.

By Genci MoshoTranslated and abridged from his chapter in the memorial book Teta Xhano.